


The Way We Say

by ObsidianMichi



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age Inquisition - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Trespasser - Freeform, Trespasser Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 22:04:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4978240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianMichi/pseuds/ObsidianMichi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After chasing the Viddasala through the eluvians, Eirwen and Solas finally come face to face after two long years. (Warning for Trespasser spoilers.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Energy snapped across Eirwen Lavellan’s back as the doorway crashed shut. Cassandra’s yell neatly dimmed behind Sera’s cut off cry. Only Cole was utterly silent. A sign that he alone among her friends had seen this coming. And, as she turned to face the open field before her, she saw why. Atop the short, waving heads of grass, were more stone qunari. The last of the Viddasalas’ forces, she thought. _They must be._ Their faces frozen, petrified in fright, caught in the middle of whatever action they’d been preparing. Some stood with spears drawn back, other’s hands covered their faces. Some were horned men. Some were human. She saw none about her height with slender bodies. She’d seen none at the Viddasala’s fortress of Darvaarad either. Eirwen could only conclude that the Qunari had little use for elves among their Antaam.

Her mouth tensed. Had stretched forth, she almost brushed a stone arm. _Solas._ He truly was here. She inhaled. His presence lingered in the air, last glittering traces of whatever spell he’d cast on these soldiers. _He always had a special hatred of the Qun._ Somehow, this seemed right.

Her fingertips crackled, another spark of green flickering off her skin. Another spasm of pain shot up her arm, electrifying her already singed nerves. She bit her cheek, hard enough to draw blood. Lifting her head, she started forward. Beyond the field there was a staircase, and up it she could see the curved point of a massive eluvian. On the cliff, two figures stood framed in shadow cast behind its bright white light. Trapped for a moment within the gold-orange glow of a fading sunset.

Eirwen drew in another deep breath.

One bent slightly, winded. The other had a familiar posture, tall and proud with hands pressed to the small of their back. One had horns. The other denoted by the smooth curve of their cranium.

The word shook her. Rattled her mind. A pulse shattered through her wrist. Her tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth, swallowing another cry. Even so, the pain passed. She raced forward. His name was the only one which seemed to matter. _Solas._ Repeating through her, again and again, in a humming thrum that dulled all other senses. _Solas._ So close now. _Solas._ Her arms pumped, bare feet flickering through the water and the mud. She had to reach him. Reach him before… she swallowed, _the end._ If he passed through the mirror then they’d never have a chance to finish. Never say what needed to be said. He’d never know she… Eirwen shook her head. _No good thinking about that._ Not now, anyway. Over the past two years, she’d lain all her worries and fears to rest. The pain, the anger, she’d come to terms with it. With his disappearance and his horribly vague version of a goodbye. She let go of her confusion, hadn’t actively sought him out. Asked Leliana to look only because it was expected. Never with any thought that she’d find him. Respected whatever desires he’d had for distance between them.

And now, she might have waited too long. _Don’t go. Give me a chance._ Surely, he could give her that. All she needed was a chance. A moment to say goodbye. Surely, Eirwen exhaled, her feet pounding up the steps. Surely, he could spare that one final moment before she passed. _Will he even be sorry to see me go?_ She couldn’t be sure. _Did he miss me?_ Her nails dug into her palms. _Did he ever want to find me?_

They were all foolish thoughts.

In the end—and it truly was—it didn’t matter.

All evidence pointed to him as the leader of the elven rebellions against the Evanuris. He was Fen’Harel, the Dread Wolf. _I can’t think about that now._ Not even as it crystallized within her mind, merged to her memories like clinging tendrils of lyrium. Branching ever deeper, a theory had begun to coalesce. One built on her suspicions. A theory which found fertile ground in her experiences, twining through to every moment of hesitance, every comment about the Fade, every expressed story of another’s memory given history’s weight. The way he spoke, when time was occasionally timeless. He had once called her mortal. The reminder of the grove when he removed her vallaslin writ large in a mural upon a wall, immortalized to memory. His tendency toward being anti-establishment, almost to a violent degree. The memory book in the Scholar’s Retreat at Vir Dirthara which warned of the Dread Wolf coming in humble guises as a wanderer who knew much of the People and their spirits. The explosion where the spirits awakened in the ruins to the name “Fen’Harel”.

After finding his self-portrait, there could be no more doubts.

Every step made her surer. Every worry made her steps heavier. _Whatever he’s thinking, I don’t know._ She couldn’t even be sure of that. Everyone, even Cole, felt she had few hours left. _What is the use_ _of worrying?_ There was little she could do to stop him now. _Other than yell and I doubt that would carry much weight._

Eirwen swallowed.

“Ebasit kata. Itwa-ost.”

She raced through the muddy water, over the floating lilly pads, and up towards the stairs. Toward the two figures framed in the distance. That was his voice.

“Maraas kata!”

Her foot slammed on the stone. She brought herself up over the edge.

“Your forces have failed. Leave now, and tell the Qunari to trouble me no further.”

Slowing to a stop, Eirwen watched Solas turn and walk away toward the eluvian. His back upright, hands still pressed to the base of his spine. Each step almost careless, with no hint of terror nor apprehension. His posture suggesting more irritation, mild annoyance, and casual disregard than worry. A confidence she’d glimpsed before in brief flashes and brief moments, but never witnessed in full bloom. He knew all too well that the Viddasala could not harm him.

A sigh of relief escaped her. _So, he wasn’t in any danger after all._

The Viddasala lifted her spear as she let out a frustrated yell.

Solas halted.

The Qunari froze. Her body rigid. Stone crackled, climbing up her feet, encasing her, and froze her in place. Just as whatever spell he’d performed earlier had done to her soldiers. He had not even required a single motion.

Her hands rested on her knees. Shoulders shaking, she spit the last bit of blood into the water. _I should have known._ Her lips twisted toward a tired smile. _How could the Viddasala threaten the Dread Wolf?_ Without her Saarebas, she was powerless. _He’s safe._ Somehow, it was all that mattered. _He’s alive._ She could die here. _And I’d be happy._ Her eyes closed. Fingertips crackled, pain lancing down her hand. A sound that should have been a yell croaked through her lips. Eyes snapping open, she lunged upward and stumbled. Feet splashed through the water, the cold from the low swell wrapping about her ankles.

The air had gone very still. Silent. Not a whisper to be heard, no a chirps from birds, and no drifting river, not even the pulsing of the waterfall off the hill. Sound was dead to her. The world dead.

Eirwen raised her head. _Solas._

He wasn’t watching her. Hadn’t even turned. Instead, he’d continued heading toward the massive eluvian with remarkably little concern. His hands still plastered against his back.

 _He has to know I’m here,_ she thought. He had to have been expecting this. Yet there he went. _As if he wants me to call out to him._ Light flickered through the crack in her palm once again. It snapped free. Another intense build up, pulsing down the length of her arm. A whimper caught on her tongue. _He’s the only one who can fix this._ Eirwen’s eyes squeezed shut and she gasped. If he had ever truly loved her… she swallowed. Well, her teeth sank into her lower lip, she shouldn’t have to beg.

Eirwen stumbled.

“Ah!” Her knees hit the stone. Water lapping about her knees, soaking through her chainmail and into the leather beneath it. Her eyes locked on her palm, the crack had grown wider. Heart hammering, her breath pounded through her chest squeezing in and out of her throat. “So—”

 _No!_ Her jaw snapped shut. She wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t call out. _I’d rather die._

And she would, Eirwen was sure. This had to be the end.

“Though you show it only rarely,” a familiar voice said, “I ought to have remembered your legendary stubbornness.”

Eirwen winced, opening her eyes. Gaze lifting until she found his soft gray-blues, she tried to smile. “What is the human phrase? The pot and the kettle?” One eyebrow arched. “Do you truly want be a pot, Solas?”

His mouth twitched. “One day that damnable Dalish pride will be the death of you.” Then, a white-blue light filled his eyes. Bells rang through her ears. The pain in her hand faded. “There,” he said. “That should give us more time.”

Letting her hand fall back to the water, she exhaled slowly. Her right thumb traced over the line where the crack had been, but nothing appeared. Her hand numbed. _Just in time for exhaustion to take me._ She tried to smile. Tired muscles twitched, then failed, and she sank back.

“You’re looking well,” Eirwen said. “That armor agrees with you.” Running her thumb back across her palm, she drew in a slow breath. “Dorian and Vivienne would be proud of your developing fashion sense.” Her head tilted. “Though, I suppose you’ve always had it.”

“Not always, no.” His hands pressed to his spine. “Sometimes, it becomes necessary.”

“In order to make the proper impression?” Eirwen asked. Her eyes flicked over his, taking in the tightly bound armor, the gleaming metal, and comforting wrap of wolf’s fur casually tossed over one shoulder. He was a far cry from the humbly dressed apostate she’d met in Haven. “I’ve learned quite a bit, you know,” she added. “About appearances, choices when it comes to dress, and all its subtle suggestions made to affect opinions.” Her lips twitched. “Necessary for my survival as the Game thrives on it.” If anything, her mouth moving kept the numbness at bay. “Whether we are seen as powerful and impressive or overlooked. Remembered as small, unimportant.” Her tongue swiped across her upper lip, a creeping tingle in her nose refused to leave. “You’ve always known a great deal about politics, though you were never forthright on how you came by it.” Her eyes narrowed. “And I can’t imagine you put on your armor just for the Viddasala.” Her head tilted, swayed slightly, and she tried for another smile. “So, who _were_ you looking to impress?”

“You…” Solas trailed off. His mouth creased stiffly. His head tilted sideways, eyes drifting across her face. They rose up above her eyes and ran across her brow, dropping down to her cheeks, then her chin. “Your hair,” he said softly. “It grew.”

“It’s hair,” she replied. “It does that.”

His nose wrinkled with a slight smile, almost wistful. “Yes.”

Rubbing her wrist, she took in the armor. It was the same as the sentinel’s from the Well of Sorrows, the similar to the collection of weapons and armor the Qunari had uncovered through the first of the eluvians. He’d squeezed into it so tightly and moved so fluidly that it seemed tailor made. Fur draped over one shoulder, over a meticulously polished golden chestplate. One silver pauldron hung over his left arm, lower and tighter than the sentinel’s. It was more ornate, yet also more practical. He’d thrown off all other guises. “You haven’t changed.”

That got a chuckle. “Indeed,” he replied. “I suppose not, time seems to have truly only affected one of us.” He glanced away, eyes swinging back toward the eluvian.

_Wondering how long he has left? How to make a quick exit? Or is he expecting friends?_

Then, his gaze returned. Mouth pulling sideways, watching as she remained sitting on the ground. The creases around his eyes softened, and his shoulders loosened. “I suspect…” he began.

Her jaw tensed. She held up a hand. “Solas?”

“Yes?”

“I understand that you have a great many important things to discuss, and an explanation which is two years overdue.” She drew in a deep breath. “However, I just stopped a Qunari plot to assassinate all the nobles in Southern Thedas. A plan, which given my own recent insights into our people’s history, I’m not sure was entirely wrong. I have spent today being accused and insulted at every turn by enemies and allies alike. I’ve just learned that my entire organization is infested with spies, and that a catastrophic failure in oversight nearly caused everything I have worked for since we closed the Breach to be undone. I have spent today fighting through nearly endless waves of Qunari, all of whom were trying to kill me. I discovered lost wonders of my people, which also tried to kill me. I almost killed myself while trying to free the Qunari dragon while she was trying her damndest to finish me off. And I just fought a near invincible sarebaas while my own hand tried to turn me and everyone I care about into a blood smear next to a very lovely eluvian. I would love to lie down for a week, but I doubt we have the time.” She glanced at him. “Still, do you suppose I could have one single moment to catch my breath before we launch into the next world shattering revelation?”

His mouth tensed, corner twitching into what she suspected was an attempt to hide a second smile. “Forgive me,” he said. “I have been preparing myself for quite some time. I may have forgotten to account the events which lead you here.”

Her right thumb traced the green crack on her palm, still glimmering even as the magic kept it contained. He’d given her a reprieve, some relief, but not a cure. “Given the enormity of what I suspect you’re going to tell me, I suppose two years might have been necessary.” Her mouth pulled sideways into a tired smirk. “Still, it’s good to see that my Solas is still here.”

His frown deepened, gaze dropping away.

Her eyes flicked up to him, finding the familiar curve of his cheeks and lips, his stormy gray-blue eyes. Easier to focus on those than the tightly fitting armor, its style similar to those of Mythal’s sentinels. “Always so focused on the path ahead that he forgets to breathe in the moment.”

His jaw tensed.

“I missed this,” she added softly. “You.” Her lips pursed. “Us.”

Solas sighed. His eyes slid back, a faint smile returning. “As did I.”

Eirwen inhaled slowly. Heart thudding against her ribcage, she lifted her head. Then, eyes brimming, she grinned. “I’m glad.”

He straightened, hands re-tucking behind his back. “We haven’t much time left, vhenan.”

Her head rolled back and she exhaled heavily. “I know.” Forcing her right arm, the arm in less pain, to move, she held out a hand.

He didn’t take it.

Water lapped at her ankles, cold between her toes. _He wants me to get up on my own._ Eirwen gritted her teeth. Avoiding all physical contact might work for him, but not for her. _Not when my legs refuse to move._ Rolling her eyes, she leaned forward. Eirwen stretched out, fingertips brushing the front of his armor and seized his belt. Her bicep bunched and she hauled down. Solas lurched. Head knocking forward, she caught him in the stomach. Her toes gripped the stone, she braced on him, and lifted. Her body swung up, sort of.

His hands caught her shoulders, steadying her.

Eirwen found herself staring at a very deep and very frustrated frown. “Serannas.”

Solas’ head tilted, lips quirked. Nose wrinkling, the way it always did when he laughed. “I might have handled that better as well,” he murmured. “Even two years gone, you still unsettle me.”

She leaned forward, lips pursed. “I can’t help the exhaustion, Solas.”

“I know.” His hands gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Stay with me, vhenan.”

Her lashes fluttered. Frowning, Eirwen lifted her head. “The Viddasala said she was going to kill you. Even after everything, I couldn’t let that happen.”

He smiled.

“I think I knew that she couldn’t,” Eirwen added. “The statues, they were a fairly good indicator.” Her head felt light, the words kept slipping through her lips. _I’m babbling._ “Still, I wasn’t quite that far ahead. This was the first time I’d… heard your name. You were out there. You were real.” Her gaze dropped. “I suppose I just had to find you.”

His hands slid down her arms, metal tips running over the chain links in her armor. He leaned forward a little, until their foreheads almost brushed. “Ir abelas, vhenan.” The heat of his skin lingered on her, the sound of his inhale as he breathed in the scent of her hair. “I should have come sooner.”

She lifted her chin, her eyes found him again. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Tell you what?” His head tilted. “That I was the Dread Wolf of your legends? The one you remember as your trickster, your god of misfortune? The monster who locked away your gods? How might you have reacted? At the time, I could hardly guess.” His mouth pulled into a tight line. “And, in the end, you discovered it on your own.” His lips twitched again. “I would say well done, vhenan, but I have always admired your intelligence too much to truly believe my secret was beyond your grasp.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Well, it matters little,” he said. “Now, you know.”

She caught his hand before he pulled away. Lifting it slowly, she pressed the cool metal of his palm to her cheek. Her eyes found him again. She half-expected him to yank, but he stood still. His mouth hardening onto a determined line, it created an almost mulish expression. He was frustrated. _Good._

Stiffening, Solas glanced away. “I half-expect you to fling the old Dalish curse.”

“Perhaps as a joke,” Eirwen replied.

He lifted a brow.

She smiled. “Or in the midst of some rather wild sex.”

That earned a wince. “I would not lay with you under false pretenses.”

“I know,” she said gently. “Even so, you lied to me.”

“It was real, vhenan.”

Sighing, Eirwen let her hand drop. “For you.”

His didn’t move. “If there is one thing in this entire debacle I must have you realize, it is how important you are to me.”

Her eyes closed. Head turned she let him cradle her, her smile widening just a little. “You know, when I was little I used to pray to the Fen’Harel statue. After my father died and my mother left, our Keeper took me to live with her. Whenever I got into trouble, our First would send me to stand by the wolf statue at the edge of camp.” Eirwen glanced at him through her lashes. “She told me that the Dread Wolf came for terrible children, that he would eat them, devour them whole, and carry them off in his stomach never to be seen again.” She watched him wince, more sharply. His face tightened, lips pursed. “And so, every time I got into trouble I prayed.”

That earned a grimace, though it came with half a smile. “That does sound like you.”

“Dread Wolf, Dread Wolf, I cried, come and take me away. Anywhere would be better.” Her fingers closed on his hand. “Anywhere would be better than this.” Her lips pulled sideways sadly. “The only answer was silence. I stood there for hours, sometimes, alone in the dark. At night, the forest was full of terror. Creatures creeping in the wood just beyond the orange glow cast by the torches. Wolves prowled the edges of our camp from time to time during leaner winters. And there was the occasional hunter who thought to frighten me. Yet, of all the creatures in the forest, the Dread Wolf never came.” Her fingers tightened. “And I never expected him to.”

Solas glanced at her.

Eirwen smiled. “You see, I didn’t believe. When I climbed the statue and waited out the First, I camped on the Dread Wolf’s head proudly. With,” she lifted her right hand and lifted her middle finger “both these displayed. There was no wolf to come get me. The stories were just stories. The meaning was in what they represented for us in the moment, not for the gods.” She pursed her lips. “What did some gods that might never hear our prayers matter?” Eirwen swallowed. “There was no hope, not while we sat waiting for someone else to save us.”

“Vhenan, I…”

“Let me finish,” she said. “The Dread Wolf I prayed to as a child was just a statue.” She studied him. “Just as you are simply an elf.” Her tongue swept her lower lip. “I know, I don’t understand fully. I may never, but, for whatever else, you will always be Solas to me.”

“Since I was Solas first,” he said, “I would say your assessment is accurate.”

“Serannas.” She bit her lip. “Again.”

Solas sighed. This time, his hand did drop. “The Dread Wolf was an insult, one I took as a badge of pride.” He turned toward the distant mass of ruins in the valley below. “It inspired hope in my friends and fear in my enemies. Not unlike Inquisitor, I suppose.”

“When you lead a rebellion against the false gods.”

“Yes,” he said. “The Evanuris.”

“Evanuris,” she repeated softly. The word rolled awkwardly on her tongue. Those memories she’d come across in the ruins and Vir Dirthara had not offered up a proper pronunciation for her to imitate. He framed the sound differently. “Eva _nur_ is.”

He smiled. “Would you enjoy hearing me speak it once more?”

Her mouth pulled into a grin. “In truth, picking through any of your memories and knowledge sounds like any First’s dearest dream. Not only an ancient but a scholar, one with a deep understanding of elvhen magic and spirits.” She gripped her left wrist and winced. “I can barely contemplate the implications, much less any implementation. The theory alone in Vir Dirthara was…” She swallowed. It would take a lifetime. Her eyes returned to her hand. “I doubt we have that kind of time.”

Solas glanced away and again his expression soured. “I always enjoyed our conversations.” His eyes closed. “I do wish we could give this one the depth it deserves.”

“That’s beginning to sound like a refrain.”

He smiled, a wistful one this time. “Yes.” He tilted his head. “I never expected to come to you so laden with regret.” His eyes fell on the city beneath them. “Worrying and wondering of what might have been, could have been. The choices I might have made differently had I known. How I will…” he trailed off.

“Remember me?” Eirwen gripped her wrist. Though it did not crackle, she could feel the spark. It moved through her, coursing as a river did. Her own soul had strengthened to become a waterfall and, through it, the Fade came crashing against her insides. Slamming up against her spirit, it rent and it tore. All her inner barriers tumbling down, laid to waste inside the wrecked shell of what had once been a vibrant body.

He glanced in her direction, but he did not meet her eyes. His mouth taut. Deep creases lined his eyes.

“The onset may have been quick, but I’ve always known,” Eirwen said gently. “I’ve escaped death more times than I can count. Eventually, my luck had to run out.”

Brow angrily furrowed in a grim expression that could only be contemplative misery. “This,” he extended a hand out toward the ruins, “the fall and ruination of the elven people, the destruction of Elvhenan, and the death of our way of life. Even what is happening to you; I must claim the blame for that as well. It is my doing, all of it.”

She stepped forward. “Solas.”

“No, vhenan,” he said. “Listen. The Evanuris, they were powerful mages that sought to raise themselves to godhood. They were not unlike Corypheus and the other Magisters of Tevinter. Perhaps not in power, for the Evanuris were far stronger, but in intent. They enslaved my people, bound them and chained them with the vallaslin. The blood writing sealed them to obedience, until I broke their chains. Those of any who wished to join me. I lead a rebellion against the Evanuris and for that they named me Fen’Harel, the Dread Wolf.”

Her palms itched.

“You see, your legends are partly true. When the false gods finally went too far, I raised the Veil and banished them forever. Theirs was to be an eternity of torment,” he closed his eyes,  
“for theirs was a betrayal most foul.”

Her heart thudded. She took another step.

Solas barely noticed, his gaze remained locked on the valley. His mind trapped within his own memories. His fingers on one hand clenched into a fist and he pressed it to his chest.

She let herself take one more step, until they were close enough for her fingertips to brush his loose hand. “What happened?”

“They killed Mythal.” His lips twitched. “Such torment can be the only fitting punishment.”

Slowly, she grasped his wrist.

His head turned.

Her fingertips slid up his cheek, his skin warm underneath her hand. Buzzing as they had at Haven, in the Fade. _A lifetime ago._ When she had met Mythal, there had been few warm feelings. She’d seen the beloved goddess of her people inside a human woman, a witch of legend. _Flemeth._ She had been more interested in her human daughter and the grandson whose body held the soul of a dead Tevinter god than she had in one of the People. One who had abandoned her own to guard a lost relic, and kept them bound through the centuries. _I cannot feel much for her._ Still, it hurt him. _And I know what it is like to lose a friend._ Eirwen leaned forward. “Ir abelas, Solas.”

“She was the best of them.” His nose brushed against hers. “The only light standing among the darkness, she transformed the rest to shadows. And in their greed, their madness, they killed her.” Again, their eyes met. “You have come to remind me of Mythal, in your own way.”

“I’m not sure I can appreciate the comparison.”

“No.” Solas smiled, one metal finger smoothed a few bangs back behind her ear. A familiar gesture, one he might done two years in the past when her hair had been shorter. His brow furrowed deeper with an irritated sort of chagrin as they flopped free. “Yet, for whatever else, it is there.”

Mouth quirked, she lifted an eyebrow.

His blue eyes widened, drifting down over her nose and mouth. He glanced away. His hands dropped, re-tucked behind his back, and he turned back toward the valley below. “When I raised the Veil, I brought all to ruin.”

Eirwen let her own hands slide together behind her back, her fingers interlacing together. A shudder passed through her, down one arm. Her left one. Instead of closing them as she wished, her eyes moved out across the mass of stone pillars.

There was a careful intricacy in the carvings, a detailed precision to each glorious curve that not even dwarven craftsmen could match. Each stone was carefully laid one upon the other, not a faulty line to be seen, no slight leaning, not a single mistake. The walls were perfectly flat, without the large circled edges like the stones of Skyhold. In fact, to the distant viewer, they looked as if they’d been raised out of the sheer rock and brought to life in one, single motion. What had made these buildings was not a hammer and chisel, but magic.

Breathing deep, she let her eyes widen.

Thoughts came tumbling through her mind, flowing in from the distant corners. Bubbling up in new possibilities as she studied the arching stone, the perfectly formed buttresses, and the beautiful arches shaped like miniature eluvians. The same shape formed each walkway and door, and matched the hallways. These were not the harsh, sharp rectangles of the dwarves. Nor the flat squares of the Fereldans. Not even the Orlesians, whose architecture had taken shape around those monuments left behind in the Conquered Dales, could match this. The buildings left by ancient elves stretched up toward the sky. Mightier than even the beautifully gilded halls of Halamshiral. In all her time running through them, she hadn’t gotten a chance to study. But it had been the same in the Well, hadn’t it? _I never thought to look at the architecture._ How could these buildings have gone abandoned so long? These glorious parapets left with none but the fading light of the sun to touch them.

 _Living in the mountains must have been so much easier with an eluvian to travel through._ The graceful walls, their twining towers of stone that looked down upon an even greater valley, surrounded on all sides by towering mountains with no clear entry or exit. No easy passage, no true rivers, no obvious mode of transportation like those her own people made use of. They’d had no need of them. _The whole of the world was ours._ Another smile twitched large on her lips. _We did stride like giants through the stars._

She glanced left, past him up to the great stone eluvian at the top of the hill. _It still works._ Why had she not thought of it when Morrigan had shown her the mirror? Why had it taken so long to realize? The magic of her ancestors was still here. Fractured, perhaps, and a little broken but its greatness remained. _We are still here._ It was just forgotten. _We might remember it again._

“You are not listening,” Solas said, though there was no trace of rancor in his voice.

“Ir abelas,” she said absently, using the phrase much as a human might. “I was thinking.”

“Tel’abelas,” he replied, his mild tone matched hers. “It may be inconvenient, but you need not apologize for it.” It felt like he was hiding another smile. “Dare I ask where your mind has decided to wander?”

Slowly, Eirwen walked toward the edge of the cliff. Sweeping a stone up off the ground, she dropped into a crouch. “Skyhold,” she said. “Its construction isn’t elven, though the records we found suggested that it was once called Tarasyl’an Tel’as.”

“The Place Where The Sky Was Held Back,” Solas said. “It is where I lifted the Veil, the magical barrier that separated this world from the Fade.” She felt his eyes return to her. “And wrecked all that you see before you.”

She wrinkled her nose. Even if he pretended interest, he was still trying to reorient the conversation. _Well, he may have been sitting on this for two years but I’m attempting to catch up._ “I admit, given your deep love of anything to do with spirits, it must have been a desperate time.”

“It was.” His eyes slid back over her. “In their desperate attempt to hold onto power, the Evanuris threatened to destroy the entire world.”

“Still, Solas…”

“It has been a long day.”

“Very.”

Solas sighed. “Continue.”

“Skyhold,” she said. “Ancient elves did live there, then? You lived there. It was your castle.”

“The current one is built upon its bones,” he replied. “However, you are correct. It was mine once. Now, it is yours.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That place, it’s still a logistical nightmare. There are no good roads and no sign there ever really was one, no easy way to move troops, and half the nobles in Orlais spent a fortune trying to build us a highway. Two years in and the Inquisition is still nowhere near the center of civilization. We’ve had to move half our major operations down to Haven just to make it easier for the pilgrims.”

He chuckled. “I remember, the first few weeks you complained of little else.”

“It was just one headache after another. How did we bring in the stone masons? How did we move the grain to feed our men and our horses? Where would we stash the mages? Who was to give up their bunk for the visiting dignitaries? Where would we put them? Where was straw for insulation? How did we keep it fresh as we carted it all the way from the bottom of the Frostbacks? How do we keep it all from becoming musty and moldy?” She groaned, the throbbing in her temple as sudden and real as if she were listening to the complaints again. “It was perpetual winter. When the water wasn’t freezing, it melted and when it did it ruined the wood and the straw. Some days it felt like a seemingly endless sink of resources and gold.” She sighed. “We must seem as important as the world’s other great cities, Josephine said. A good idea in practice.” Rolling the stone on her palm, she frowned. “A nightmare to implement.”

“In the end, you sorted it,” he said. “And think, had you not attempted to make yourself available to every ear then your days would not have been so long.”

Eirwen smiled. “Do you blame me for making yours longer?”

“I valued that you sought me out as a source of comfort in those few peaceful moments you managed to acquire.” His eyes were on the ruins. The creases around them softened. “You were always one to move at your own pace.”

“Solas.”

“Yes?”

“We’ll get back to your story in a moment,” she said with a smile. “If I’m dying then I’d like to think this out, especially while I still have you here to check my work.”

He sighed. “Very well.”

“I’ve always wondered, why Skyhold? Not for the obvious reason,” Eirwen glanced at him with a smile, “it was impressive, abandoned, convenient, and came with a splendid view. Perfect when we needed a makeshift miracle.” She watched him answer her with one of his own. “And we did desperately need one, Solas. Serannas for giving us your home.” A slightly sadder one, but this time the creases around his eyes suggested both relief and gratitude. “No, I wondered, why were all ancient elven centers of civilization in places so difficult to reach?”

His hands tightened against his back. His eyebrows rose and a strangely intense curiosity glimmered in his gray-blue eyes. “I suppose you have discovered an answer.”

“I should have seen it with Morrigan,” Eirwen said. “I was so distracted by you and Mythal, and the Crossroads themselves. The eluvian felt so natural in Skyhold, so easily in the right place.” She tossed the stone up into the air. “I didn’t stop to think.” Surging to her feet, she snatched it as it came down and whipped her arm back. Green light snapped across her left hand, exploding around the stone, and she hurled it forward. The slim smooth rock spun out into the orange-pink sky, flying high above the stone parapets before tumbling into the distant ruins below. “We’re free to pick our scenery when we never have to worry about walking.”

“Ah.” He snorted. “You would think so.”

“Well,” Eirwen said. “Had I magical gateway which would let me travel to the bottom of the mountain in a few seconds rather than a few days, I might have appreciated my new castle more.”

That earned her a glower.

“Solas,” she said patiently, “you just told me that you destroyed the world so the false gods wouldn’t. Everything you taught me and what I found in Vir Dirthara suggests that your people were capable of much greater magical works. Since the Fade itself is raw magic, and the source of all magic, it only makes sense that removing the power source would cause the underlying structure to collapse.”

Again, he sighed. “A universal truth I was aware of at the time.”

Bending over, Eirwen picked up another stone. “You wouldn’t feel so guilty if you had contemplated all the ramifications.” She glanced back to the buildings in the distance. “Dalish legend states that all elves once had magic, that we were all magical.” With a flick of her wrist, she sent it spinning out into the open air. “Yet, we’re not. While we produce many more mages than the humans and Qunari do, the vast majority of the People have none at all.” Her eyes narrowed. In the distance, the stone wheeled and dipped then disappeared into the valley. “In Vir Dirthara, I found memories that said Elgar’nan’s slaves carved a massive stone monument out of a mountainside in a single day. So, the legends have some kernel of truth.” She swallowed. “All elves must have had magic.”

“Yes,” he murmured. “They were immortal as well.”

“And those who do now…” she trailed off. “I have access to only a fraction of what I feel flowing through my hand every time I close a rift.”

“In the end, even your mortal body can neither contain nor harness such a flow.” Another soft, regretful sigh echoed out across the expanse. “If there were one in all the world who might have mastered my mark, it would have been you.”

She glanced at him and found he’d moved closer, much closer. “It must be horrifying to look upon.”

“At first,” Solas said. “It was like walking through a world of Tranquil.”

Slowly, Eirwen nodded. Her fingers located another stone. “And,” she said mildly, “as we know, the Tranquil aren’t people.”

He stiffened.

Her eyes slid sideways. Launching another stone out into the air, she pursed her lips. “You, Mythal, and even Abelas, you’re all the same.” The ache in her arm was returning. “You see us the same way, as broken. We’re just flitting shadows,” gritting her teeth, she exhaled very slowly, “and you, you’re trapped in your very own nightmare.” She reached down again, but his hand caught her wrist. “Except,” she continued, “instead of it being just one person or two, it’s a whole world worth of broken things.” Her voice harshened on _things_ , crested and broke on the syllable. She looked up. “Am I even a person to you, Solas? Or am I just a more pleasant corner of the dream you used to find some comfort?”

His brow furrowed deeper. His grip tightened around her wrist. A flick of his yanked her off her feet and she stumbled forward. Solas’ mouth swept down and he caught her up, his other arm wrapped around her waist. Then, he was kissing her.

“Mmmph,” Eirwen gasped, but her gasp only opened her mouth wider.

The hand that had held her wrapped around the back of her head, pulling her in deeper. Metal of his gauntlets pulling at her hair, thumb scraping down her cheek.

Her lashes fluttered. She pulled herself up, slamming back. Roughly jamming her lips against his mouth, her tongue coursed over his teeth. They clanked together. Wet pulse of her tongue streaking into him. Her fingernails digging into his scalp. She rose up onto her toes, barely able to equal his height. Her other arm went about his neck. Crushing herself against him, she squeezed every ounce of air from her lungs to demolish the distance between them.

She heard him groan. Then, he was walking her back off the cliff.

Eirwen clung on.

Solas lifted her up.

Her feet brushed his calves. Tears warmed her cheeks. Her forehead rested against his, and she breathed his name. “Solas.”

A warm smile curled the side of his mouth. “For all that there is between us and for all that will remain, my love for you shall never be in doubt.”

Her feet landed on the wet grass.

“I do not expect you to believe me, vhenan,” he said. “And you are correct. I did not see you as a person, not in the beginning. I saw none of those from this time as whole. It remains difficult, even now.” His gray-blue eyes warmed. “Yet, you broke through my reservations, you conquered whatever walls I sought to build. You persisted and, in the end, you defeated all my doubts. Before long, I could hardly imagine a life without you.” He chuckled. “If only for a short time, you taught me what it was to hope again.” His eyes fixed on her earnestly, solemnly. “You showed me I was wrong.”

Her fingers trailed down his cheeks. “Why give Corypheus the orb?”

His hands settled on her waist, in position to either pull her closer or thrust her away. “I awoke from in uthenera a year before I joined you. At the time, I was too weakened by my long sleep to unlock it. I required another source of power.”

“Corypheus,” she nodded.

“One of my agents left the orb for Corypheus to find. You know the rest.” He sighed. “A miscalculation on my part, I never imagined a Tevinter Magister would unlock the secret of effective immortality.”

“And everyone at the Temple?” she asked. “They were just acceptable losses, weren’t they? You’d already destroyed one civilization.” Eirwen shook her head. “Compared to that, what were a few more coppers in the bucket?”

His fingers dug into her waist and he glanced away.

“You don’t need to tell me, I can guess what you would’ve done had you succeeded. If Corypheus died attempting to open it, you’d have swept through the rubble and recovered it with none the wiser.” Her eyes lifted, molars gritting. “Then, you drop the Veil, the world gets destroyed, and the ancient elves are restored.” Lips pressed together, she leaned forward. “Somehow.”

“If it was your world at stake, you would have done the same.”

Eirwen tilted her head, brows lifting. Her mouth tightened. It took everything she had not to hit him. “I can’t say you’re wrong,” she said. Eyes falling, she studied the ground. “I wish I could.”

“I know.”

“Still,” Eirwen said. “A year.” Her arms crossed defensively across her chest. “Just one measly year, that’s all it took for you to pass judgement on us.”

“I am not, vhenan.”

She glared at him. “You’ve done nothing but since the first moment I met you!” Slowly, Eirwen shook her head. “We have fought so hard, endured so much. Countless times our homeland has been destroyed and every second of our continued existence courts another genocide, yet we are still here. Unrecognizable to you, perhaps, but still elvhen.” She took a backward. “How dare you! How dare you stand there and judge us for being unable to reach the grandeur of our past! How dare you stand there and say you’ll create a world that we’re to have no part in.” She swallowed. “We deserve better than for you to give us one stupid year before saying, ‘not good enough’!”

He stiffened. The line of his mouth tightening up once again as his hands dropped off her waist. He turned away, stalking through the puddles toward the eluvian.

“Solas!”

He turned back. His eyes narrowed, brow furrowed into a fierce glower.

She strode forward. “When are you going to stop walking away?”

“I am not,” he growled. His hands stuck to his lower back. “If I do not leave now, then I will say or do something we shall both come to regret.”

“Oh?” Her hands spread. “We will, will we? I’m not the one running from my own damned emotions!”

“While I understand your anger, now is not the time for blind accusations!”

Eirwen sighed.

“Look at yourself, vhenan! You were strapped with a power beyond your comprehension, and you continued to meddle with it! Only to see it break.”

“Is there something wrong with wanting to understand the Anchor?” Eirwen asked. “How it works? What it’s capable of?”

“In concept? No, it is an admirable goal,” he snapped. “Yet, in practice, it might have destroyed not only you but Skyhold itself! Were it not for my intervention, it would have already.”

“It was a risk worth taking,” she replied.

“Even if takes all you hold dear?” he asked.

“You said you believe in the right of all free willed people to exist,” she yelled. “Sometimes, that means we’re going to take actions you don’t agree with!” Her voice softened. “I am doing the best with what I have, Solas. There was no library of past magical theory to draw upon, I don’t have several thousand years of experience. I have only the here and now.” Her jaw tightened. “And I decided it’s worth trying.”

“You do not have the wisdom nor the ability to comprehend even a fraction of the magic you are seeking.”

“You don’t know what we’re capable of!” Eirwen yelled. “You never gave us the chance to find out! You decided it was impossible! You!” She leaned back. “Unilaterally and with no room for debate.” Frowning, she shook her head. “And yet, you’ve been proven wrong time and again. Corypheus defied all your expectations. As did I!”

He shifted and his eyes dropped.

“Solas,” she said. “You led me to a dilapidated ruin far from any civilization, with no easy water access and no good way to bring in the necessities we needed. Nor was it able to host the forces we required. From there, I transformed it into a hub of diplomatic relations, trade, and made it the home of an army which could bring all Southern Thedas to its knees.” She jabbed his chest. “Make no mistake, beloved, that was entirely due to the efforts of Cullen, Leliana, Josephine, and myself.” Her eyes narrowed. “You might give us a little more credit.”

“You saw the remnants of Vir Dirthara, did you not?” he demanded. “There were countless other marvels once, all of them destroyed. Do you truly believe your Inquisition could resurrect them in a world where mages are hunted and feared? When you yourself are empowered only by Chantry propaganda?” His brows rose. “I am speaking to the Herald of Andraste, am I not? Corypheus is two years dead, yet you have done nothing to deny your status as chosen and the Inquisition only grows the greater for it.”

Eirwen laughed. “Oh?” Her brows lifted in response. “Is that what this is about? So, it’s not just my reckless pursuit of my people’s magical legacy, but also my irresponsible use of the power that’s on the table.” She snorted. “How long have you been holding this in?”

“None can deny you built a powerful organization and now corruption has set in as was inevitable.”

“You say from your gilded perch,” she snapped. “Those of us living in this world have had to make some sacrifices.”

“Yes,” he said. “If I may ask from my position that you yourself have said is so high above, does that include the sacrifice of all that you are? Or merely all you might have been?”

Eirwen opened her mouth, then closed it. Pausing, she glanced back across the vast expanse below them and swallowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Do you not?” He demanded. “As always, you have proven yourself only too willing to leap into the dragon’s den on the slightest hope of some small gain.” He stepped forward again, leaning down. “All too ready to make yourself a sacrifice.”

Crossing her arms, Eirwen narrowed her eyes.

“How many times did you tell me you despised the practice of slavery, even going so far as walking away from temptation at the Temple of Mythal because you believed the price of your personal freedom was not worth losing?”

She could feel his eyes on her.

“Yet, now you would recklessly sell yourself for far less.”

Her fingers drummed on her upper arm, knuckles desperately thumping on chainmail. Eyes flicking up, she scanned his face.

His mouth had once again grown taut, brows creased in a deep frown. Long lashes narrowed around gray-blue eyes. An all too youthful face, wrinkled by both sorrow and laughter, watched her irritably. Sternly. Still, the expression in his eyes was solemn.  

“Is this about the marriage proposals?” she asked. “Josephine fields fifty or sixty of those per week, they mean nothing.”

His brows rose.

And, despite herself, Eirwen blushed.

“No,” Solas said. His voice softened. “I was speaking of another, one under more serious consideration.”

“I am reviewing an offer, for the moment,” Eirwen replied. “It’s hardly your business.”

He frowned. “In your effort to preemptively save the Inquisition, you developed an arrangement with Duke Cyril.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, I engaged in pleasant flirtation as I have with quite a few men and women since you left.”

Solas winced, then exhaled heavily.

“Besides, whatever his hopes were, are, or might be, there is nothing there.” Her mouth pulled sideways. “Even if Orlais succeeds in slipping the collar around my throat, Cyril is not the representative they’ll assign. It makes the point moot.”

“If you invite in his advances only to spurn them, then you create a dangerous enemy both personally and politically.” Solas took another step forward. “You are aware of what these men you correspond with say of you are you not?”

“That even the feistiest mare may be broken to bridle through proper application of whip and spur? Yes, I have.” Eirwen tilted her head. “Patience is, after all, how one breaks a spirited mount.”

Again, he winced.

“Oh,” Eirwen laughed. “Perhaps, it was another more colorful.”

“Indeed,” he replied. “Far more.”

She sighed. “I know what they say about me in the salons of Val Royeaux, Solas. I’ve heard it all. It’s the price paid for being elven, female, and famous.” She frowned. “Perhaps, merely female. I intimidate them and they make up for it with the only power available to them.” Waving a hand, Eirwen shook her head. “Slander much like what they used to whisper about us in the halls of Skyhold. It’s just idle gossip, they talk themselves up by putting others down. It didn’t affect you then.”

“At the time, I had only myself to consider,” he said. “I was more than happy to be made the brunt of their tasteless jokes.”

“I never expected the state of my reputation to trouble you.”

“Only when I think of what else it might affect.”

Her mouth tugged wryly. “I won’t stop.”

“I know.”

Eirwen lifted her chin. “You walked out of my life, Solas. You gave up your right for a say in what I do.” Mouth tightening, she shook her head. “And I’m too tired to deal with regrets, what ifs, or might’ve beens.”

His hand stretched out, a faint smile curved his lips. His thumb traced down her cheek, cold metal cool on her skin. Then, he let it drop.

“Besides,” she added, “my political intrigues have paid off. In the past two years, we have made roads throughout Fereldan and Orlais safer for travel. Rebuilt them, often at our own expense when we couldn’t convince the local lord or Bann to give a shit about those he wasn’t personally using.” “We have rebuilt settlements and established new ones on lands long left abandoned. With the aid of the Dwarven Merchant’s guild, I personally financed the Collegium’s studies into the effects of magic on crop growth.” One finger prodded his chest. “With the aid of a few recovered Dalish mages and their often overlooked knowledge regarding plant life.” Her eyes narrowed. “I near beggared myself and the Inquisition countless times to support my _passion_ projects such as rebuilding the Alienages devastated by the Orlesian Civil War. I’ve had my trusted aids drawing up plans for a way to implement new bi-lingual schools under the auspices of charitable organizations so that the elves living in the cities, _my people_ might have a chance to reconnect with their heritage.” Her lips pursed. “We’ve been looking for alternate routes in case the Inquisition ended up disbanded.”

Eirwen crossed her arms. “The powerful of this world are the true evil, from the Evanuris to the Magisters to the entrenched structure across all Thedas. I am tired of seeing people dehumanized, their enslavements allowed, their poverty enforced because some feckin’ nob needs money for tourney more than ensuring those in his charge are fed!” She sucked in a deep breath. “True strength is not in walking away from power, Solas,” she said. “It’s in sharing it. There’s more kindness amongst the lowliest beggars in Val Royeaux’s slums than there is within the Halamshiral’s gilded walls.”

The smile on Solas’ mouth widened. “Once again,” he said, “you sound much like someone I once knew. Young, headstrong, and foolish to a fault, yet so wonderfully optimistic despite all you have endured.” A soft chuckle escaped him. “It shames me, vhenan, though I know all too well where such paths end.”

“On a pyre,” she replied.

He winced.

Her mouth tugged wryly. “Strapped with a name like Herald of Andraste, I can hardly expect this to end any other way.” She let her gaze fall away. “Whether it’s from my hand, or you destroying the Veil, or angry Thedosian mobs, odds are I’ll die young.” The grass waved against her feet, tall strands rising up from within the murky water as it raced toward the cliff’s edge. Her arms crossed over her chest and, after a long pause, she laughed. “I always expected to, really. Keeper told me again and again that my dreams would be the death of me.” Then, her eyes lifted. “Still, if does last even just a decade after my death then whatever else I have suffered will be worth it.”

His head tilted, the creases around his eyes deepening as his smile widened. “As always, you remain a wonder all your own.” Then, his gaze turned away. “We are far too similar, you and I.”

“Too much so to ever live comfortably.”

He laughed.

“It will be a hard road to walk,” she added softly, “but I’m willing to pay the costs.” Her head tilted. “Even if it does cost me all that I am, all I ever will be, and everything else in between.”

His eyes snapped back to her. “I do wish you would not be so eager to die for your cause.”

Eirwen sighed. “As if you’re any better.”

“This is not a path I wish to walk nor an end I wish to see,” he said. “I must right the wrong I committed when I raised the Veil and destroyed my world.” His eyes narrowed. “Yet, I do not chase death blindly. When my end comes, it shall be no more than I deserve.”

Swallowing, Eirwen let her hands drop.

He took another step forward, closing the distance between them. “You still have a life ahead of you, vhenan. One you’ve yet begun to truly live. Were I not…” he halted. “There is no way to know…” he trailed off. “Regardless of what comes, I must walk my path alone. I bear the burden of it, and I must correct it.”

“Even if there’s no way to bring the old world back?” Eirwen asked. “Arlathan will never be as it was.”

“Some hope remains for restoration,” he replied. “Though Arlathan itself is now only a memory, the people remain. They must be revived and I must return the world I stole from them.” His eyes narrowed. “I will save the elven people, even if this world must die.”

 _The elven people._ It stung to know that didn’t include her, or the Dalish, or the elves living in the cities. _Not us, we’re the broken, imperfect version._ Eirwen’s jaw set, lips tightening. “You berate me for making myself a willing sacrifice, yet you’ll do exactly the same.”

He sighed. This time it was frustrated, impatient. “You still do not see!”

“No!” she snapped. “I do! I see you willing to throw us all under the nearest cart because we’re not what you want!” Her hands clenched, nails digging into the leather and linked metal protecting her palms. “Do you expect me to just sit politely in my corner waiting for the end to come?”

“No,” he said, his voice lowered. “I expect you to fight for this world with all you at your disposal, with every fiber you possess.” He smiled. “You would not be you if you did otherwise.”

She blinked. Tears warmed her lashes.

“I am not a fool, vhenan,” he said. “I know you too well.”

Eirwen turned her head. “Why must it happen this way?” she asked. Voice breaking, she bit back a sob. “Why are you forcing me to become your enemy?”

“I walk the Din’anshiral. I would not have you see what I become.”

Gritting her teeth, Eirwen’s gaze narrowed. Her hand went to her belt, fingers closing around the hilt of a small dagger. With a yank, she pulled it free.

Solas took a step back, blue light gleamed in his eyes.

Instead of pointing it at him, as he clearly expected, Eirwen pressed the blade to her throat.

“Vhenan!”

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” she asked. “My death. Whether it happens a year from now or today, what does it matter? Either way, you just delay the inevitable.”

He stepped forward, one hand extended.

And she stepped back, staying just out of reach. “You don’t want me to witness the path you’ll walk? Kill me.” A little applied pressure from her wrist and the blade bit lightly into her skin. Warm blood trickled across her windpipe, slipping down toward the chainmail protecting her neck. “I told you once, I will not wait quietly for death to take me.” She watched his gaze narrow on her windpipe, following the thin red trail as it slid toward her collarbone. “This is the only way you’ll stop me, Solas.”

His frown deepened. “I know.”

“Honestly?” She laughed, it was a hard, broken, and bitter laugh. “I shouldn’t let you try to fix me at all. I should make you watch the clock run out, watch the Anchor devour me alive.” Her mouth pulled tight. “As it should’ve at the Temple. As it should have with Corypheus.”

He took another step forward. “You have earned your anger, vhenan. However, this is not the way.”

Again, Eirwen swung back. “And you ought to let the Fade have what it can take.”

“You are far too valuable to this world.” His voice hardened. “Your death would only cause more chaos, more senseless bloodshed, and it is unnecessary.”

“No!” she shouted. “Not for that, but because my continued existence eases your conscience!” Her voice tore at her throat. “My value as an individual isn’t even what comes to mind first. It’s not my capacity for free thought or my drive for self-determination. Not even because you love me.” Her lips trembled, shook. “No, Thedas needs me to maintain _stability._ If I die, then the Qun wins.” She laughed, but she knew it was more than a little hysterical. “That’s all it is. That’s all I am.” She giggled. The dagger quivered in her fingers. “Still, just a bloody object. Here to help you feel better about yourself, bring you some comfort while you destroy my world.”

“Vhenan…”

She raised an eyebrow, aware the tears were slipping off her lashes. “What will you tell yourself, Solas? It had to be done? You did all you could?” Her smile yanked wider. “I wonder what the next excuse will be and if it will prove truer than any of the others.”

His frowned deepened but, instead of turning away, he took another step closer. “You cannot begin to understand what has been lost,” he said. “Even after all you have seen on your journey through the last fragments remaining, can you truly not understand why I must do this?”

“No,” she said. “I understand, I just don’t agree.”

That got a nose wrinkle, his cheeks tensing like he’d swallowed a laugh. Suddenly, he was closer and they were nearly nose to nose. “I suppose you would,” he murmured. His lips pursed. “However, it is done. Nothing either of us say or do will change it.”

“Fine,” Eirwen said. “I’ve known my days were numbered since I was four years old, when starving humans raided our camp in the dead of winter. I learned what death meant that day. A part of me died as another awakened.” She studied him. “I’ve been living on borrowed time ever since.” She stared up into his eyes. “Immortality might extend the inevitable, but death comes for us all.”

He was leaning forward.

“You may be on your Din’anshiral, but I’ve been walking the same path since before I can remember.” Her breath squeezed from her lungs. “I recognize a kindred spirit when I see one.”

“I told you once that you saw more of me than most,” Solas murmured. His hand closed on her fingers. “I see it remains truer than I realized.” And he yanked her arm back, prying the blade free. He cast it away. It spun over the water, hitting a nearby rock face with a clatter and disappeared into the grass.

“Pain blinds us,” she whispered. “We believe our experiences are entirely unique, that we are alone with no one to understand.” Her free hand flattened against his cheek. He lifted the palm of the one he held to his lips. “I may not entirely comprehend, but I do…”

“I know.” Gray-blue eyes lifted, capturing her in their intensity. He was reaching for her. His fingers tangling up in her hair. And when she crashed against his chest, they were both without clothes. He tilted her chin, so his mouth brushed over her lips. “I know.”

Eirwen’s eyes squeezed shut, tears slipping freely down her cheeks. Her arms went around his neck. His mouth crushing hers with a kiss that ran electric right down to her toes. Lifted her up. She pressed against him, captured in a desperate, passionate embrace. Theirs a grasping desperate jumble of emotions spurred on by the fear of tomorrow. Swept away by a kiss which only promised goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used some of the dialogue from Trespasser, some of it is slightly modified, and the rest of it is mine. This was also supposed to be way shorter than it ended up being. Blame Solas. Blame him for everything.


	2. Chapter 2

Solas woke long after the light of the sun faded behind distant mountaintops and the sky transformed to a twilight purple. And he lay still for many more hours after that, watching the moon rise over the distant remnants of what had once been a stronghold dedicated to Mythal. He had only the small, warm, slumbering body of Eirwen Lavellan to keep him company. For him, it was more than enough.

She curled around him. Her left arm left flung over his ribcage, cinching herself tight even as she slept. Her head flopped to one side, her orange hair splayed out across his chest. Soft lips parted slightly, leaving a thin trail of saliva to cool on his stomach. She cuddled snugly as his fingers drifted up and down her spine, still a near perfect fit. He listened for the hiccups in her quiet breathing. A tiny smile curving his lips when it halted every so often to let her nose rumble out a soft snore. The very one Eirwen swore up and down she did not possess. They might have turned back two years to the Frostbacks, or the Hinterlands, or even Skyhold only to find themselves lying together with all the world around them forgotten. The troubles of tomorrow left on the distant horizon.

Whenever they spent the night together, he found himself waking early to ease her into a deeper sleep all because he simply enjoyed the view. It was the same now. Except for a single, small detail, one his mind, and fingers, kept returning to.

Her hair.

There was more of it now than there had been before. Two years ago, it had been cropped short. Left neatly smoothed. A perfectly practical style more common on men than women, though pragmatic for someone who spent their days traversing unknown ruins and other terrain. It took no time to prepare in the morning and, often, he saw her do little more than pat it down before setting out to raid a bandit stronghold. Though the affect emphasized her youthfulness and inexperience, the hairstyle was aptly suited her personality.

Now, it hung loosely about her cheeks. Lengthening her face as it was cut crisply at her jawline, adding an extra air of femininity. _I truly did not expect two years to make such a difference._ More than the tired, hollowed circles underneath her eyes suggested. She worked late, slept little and, he suspected, rarely well. Thinned cheeks and waist, both signs of more than a few skipped meals. He was grateful that after an intensive exploration with his fingers, he had not located any new scars. Though, it was hardly the victory it seemed. _As always those of the spirit run much deeper._

Solas let his fingers drift through the strands, gently stroking them back off her temple.

As she slept, he’d traced the lines of her visage. Tips trailing over high cheekbones, round cheeks, her full lips, down to the tip of her chin. He’d wiped away the smudges her tears had left in her makeup. Stayed awake and watchful long after exhaustion carried her into a deep slumber. Easier to attempt to keep the moment, to remember the sensation of her body cradled against him and trace her into his memory.

She had changed in the two years since he’d left. Then, she’d been full of determination and an almost boundless optimism, cautious reservation and quiet sarcasm quickly giving way to reveal a brave young woman with a curious fascination for the unknown. He’d discovered a quick and cutting wit masked an even sharper intellect, one always working, building, and planning. Kind with the quiet wisdom of one who knew what it was to be deeply hurt, she had a knack for seeing through walls and barriers to find those lost or hidden by grief. She was a dreamer filled with impossible dreams, fierce in ambition, and pragmatic in outlook. Beneath it all, though, a nervous awkwardness reigned. Slightly foolish, slightly overeager, bound and determined to discover the limits of her new world.

Yet, now, the girl he’d turned back for was gone.

Eirwen had completed her evolution from lost Dalish First to Inquisitor, ruler of one of the most powerful forces in Thedas. There was no more awkwardness, the rough edges smoothed away. Even in sleep she lay with a languid confidence, utterly relaxed in her surety of self. Whatever room she walked into she owned. _A skill developed with the aid of the Grand Enchanter, no doubt. Useful for a leader._ Yet he worried about such training’s limitations. With Dorian gone to Tevinter and the rebel mages rebuilding in the South, only Vivienne was left to guide her and tend to her voracious need for education. A dangerous prospect for the Circle’s ways would only close off doorways readily accessed. He rarely felt her presence in the Fade, even as she dreamed beside him. Her mind walled off in ways it had never been before. Her focus remained on the waking world before her, on the future. A creature of progress, she turned to the past only when she felt it might aid her current efforts and remained all too willing to destroy herself to see those goals achieved.

She was hope embodied, given physical form. In her, he saw the greatness of the People struggling to rise again. Her eyes held all that could have been, all that should have been, and reminded him how he failed to give her the world she deserved. A world in which she could thrive, in which her brilliant spark might never die. His actions denied her immortality in any form other than memory. Those in his future would wipe away whatever remained.

 _I never know whether I must fear you or be fearful for you._ His lips brushed across her hair. She would fight him, he knew. Fight, and stretch, and chase until it killed her. She would race toward the horizon, mindful of every cost except the personal. She would follow her road wherever it lead. Her hand always reaching out toward the sun. And when the day came for a sacrifice, he could only hope he’d get there first. For, he knew, in the end he would lose her. One way or another. _My love._ He closed his eyes and held her closer. _I will never forget you._

In response, Eirwen murmured sleepily. Her body rolling in a little closer as her nose nuzzled his collarbone.

Overhead, stars glittered in the velvet black sky. He could hear the rush of water tumbling down the falls, left behind remnants of a once beautiful fountain. The water once drawn up to supply this city with water had become a river, created a run off that chased its way down toward the ruins in the valley below, and filled the paths his people had long ago walked. His eyes found the towers now, just below the horizon and the stars. Their stone parapets were no longer covered by the blue crystal of his memory. There were no twining pathways leading up toward the sky, no floating gardens, and the trees to create benches and easy resting places in ancient lecture halls had long since run free.

His lips pressed to Eirwen’s forehead, if only he could do what she asked and walk those paths again with her. If only they lived in an age where time was not a precious commodity, where he could sweep her off to a distant mountaintop for a year or more to study the planes and paths of her visage. So he might tease both her clever mind and her clever tongue to see how many months of solitude her idle hands might withstand before it finally drove her into fits. How many years could he keep her entertained while uninterrupted?

He had always wondered.

In another world, perhaps it might have been different. He owed far too much to Mythal, carried too much responsibility for his own mistakes to turn his back on the world that was for his own selfish desires. _We cannot change our nature by wishing._

_You don’t think?_

Solas closed his eyes. How those words still haunted him. He had so desperately hoped she would overcome the Anchor, hoped she would prove his assumptions wrong. Master his magic. Yet, in the end, she could no more achieve immortality than he could sacrifice his. The chasm too great to cross, not without an intervention likely to destroy them both. He wished… oh, how desperately he wished to take Varric’s advice. Change his nature. Change to fit into her mortal life. A hundred years brief as a candle’s flickering flame, all too short while already more than enough. If only…

Yet, he could not for there was no way to do so. This fate of theirs could not be undone.

Her arm encircled his neck, another sleepy murmur escaped her. Both signs she was waking.

A smile pulled his lips and with two fingers, he tilted up her chin. Whether it was a thousand years or merely a few seconds, he would enjoy each lingering moment. Her warmth. Her touch. The way her lips curved into a smile. Bright blue eyes sparkling in the torchlight as her fingers traced ancient writing in an ancient ruin. He would remember it all and carry her with him to the end. _I take comfort in the knowledge I will not long outlive you._

“Forgive me,” Solas murmured into her hair.

“Mmm,” Eirwen snuggled in a little closer, “not if you’re planning to sneak off without returning my clothes.”

In spite of himself, he chuckled. “Perhaps not at this particular juncture, no.”

“Ah,” she nodded. “So, there is hope you’ll one day abandon me utterly naked in a clearing.”

His eyes squeezed shut. _“Vhenan.”_

“Please.” Her head lifted off his chest, blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “I’m not a fool.” A tiny smile curved her lips as she propped herself up on one elbow. “If I thought sex would change your mind, I doubt I’d find you as fascinating as I do.”

“I have always said you value yourself too cheaply.” He smiled. “Skill in bed included.”

One orange eyebrow arched. “Flatterer.”

A finger traced her cheek. _It would be far too easy to stay like this forever._ “I say nothing that is not true.”

That earned him a head tilt and a smirk. “Liar.”

He smiled, though it was a wry one. “Not in this.”

Her eyes rolled and she sat up. Framed in the moonlight, her gaze moved to the eluvian still active on the hill. Then, it slid back, falling across him contemplatively. The humor in those lovely irises died as her shoulders slumped. “I know,” she murmured. “Whatever else comes, Solas, I do love you.”

“I know,” he replied. Propping himself on an elbow, he studied her. Soft hair falling across her cheeks in the moonlight, the slightest of smiles on her lips. “Have you thought of what to do with your Inquisition?”

Her left hand lifted, framed by the velvet black sky behind it. Green cracks raced down her wrist and forearm, gleaming brightly in tiny flares. Stars crackled through her skin. Her irises lit with an inner glow of emerald fire. “It will survive me,” she said. “I spent the last three months preparing my lieutenants to take over.”

Reaching out, he took her hand. “You will not die today, vhenan.”

Her eyes swung back to him. “Says the one who wants to kill me.”

He winced. “What I must do and what I wish for are separate.”

She leaned forward, so her forehead rested against his. Her warm eyes held him, even as tears glittered on her lashes. “That’s why I am going to save you.” The glow had spread out from her irises to encompass the entirety of each eye. “I told you once that I stand against all those who might cause you harm. When you asked me how I would stop them, do you remember what I said?”

His mouth tightened.

“However I had to.”

_That is what frightens me._

“Var lath vir suledin.”

He swallowed. “I wish it could.”

She leaned forward, resting her forehead on his. “It will,” she whispered. “I’ll show you. Even if the only way is to write my answer across the face of Thedas, I will teach you what it is to dream again.” Her nose brushed across his skin, lips pulling into a pained smile. “There is still hope, Solas, for all of us.”

His fingers interlocked with hers as he crushed her to his chest. Mouth slamming down, he captured her lips and pulled her into his lap. The time had come for him to take back the Anchor, for him to go. The hand was too far gone to be saved, had to be severed. He would take it with him.

Eirwen arched against him with a breathless gasp that came from the pain as much as it did from his touch. He felt her lashes sweep his cheek, her eyes squeezing shut as warm tears leaked down his chin. “Solas…”

“Stay with me, vhenan,” he whispered.

Her jaw tensed. Whole body rigid, she pressed closer to him. Hard, echoing sobs escaped roughly through her lips. She squirmed, writhed. Green energy crackling and snapping down the length of her forearm, burned hotter and hotter. The raw power of the Fade fluctuated, spiraling wildly through her spirit. Her hand glowed, transformed to pure light as flesh, bone, blood, and sinew evaporated underneath the cold moonlight.

Cradling her head against his neck, he planted another soothing kiss on her forehead. Blue light bloomed across his eyes. The spell he’d prepared passed from his lips into her skin.

Her body jerked, nose grinding against his collarbone. Her teeth scraped his chest.

He held her tight, fingers digging into her shoulder. His eyes squeezed shut.

A low wail pierced the night air.

 _This… it is my mistake._ His actions caused her suffering, always.

“S-S-Solas,” Eirwen panted.

One hand smoothed back her hair. “It shall be over soon.”

“Ah!”

_Find your happiness, my heart._

An explosion of green light rippled through the night air.


	3. Chapter 3

Eirwen woke to the soft orange glow of the dawn’s rays burning on her eyelids. Birds in the distant trees chirping an unfamiliar language and the soft babbling water rushing off a nearby cliff. She sat up slowly, body wincing between aching muscles and the tight pinching of her armor’s chainmail. Her mouth was dry, tongue almost stuck to her gums, and a thin film of slime coated her teeth. Breathing jerkily through a stuffed up nose, she let out a slow exhale. Her forehead itched, her skin clammy and bangs slick with sweat. Raising her arm, Eirwen tried to brush a few loose strands from her eyes.

Her left hand never made it.

Gaze dropping, she paused to study where the Anchor had been. The entire lower portion of her left arm was gone, severed neatly just below the elbow.

“That bastard,” she muttered. The armor’s chainmail sleeve, leather, and thin metal wrist guards were missing too. He’d removed that too, and put her clothes back on. _Somehow._ She didn’t recall that at all. Leaning forward, she dropped her head. Again, there was no hand to catch it. Her right needed to remain firmly planted in the wet grass, to keep her from falling over. “I must have passed out.”

Between the extreme pain, the stress, and previously being on her third day without sleep, it made sense. _Ugh._ Her temple throbbed. _I need to stand._ Find the eluvian at the bottom of the stairs. Get back to Cole, Varric, and Cassandra. They, at least, would help her find her way through the mess of mirrors that brought them here. _Maybe dodge a few surviving Qunari too._ It shouldn’t be too difficult. _Though I’m not sure I can cast._ Her stomach heaved as she shoved herself to her feet. _Or walk._ Swallowing bile, Eirwen clenched her fingers. _And there’s the dizzy spell._ With the added strangeness of only feeling five out of ten move.

Slowly, she started toward the stairs. She walked gingerly with a slight limp in her left ankle. The consistent adrenaline rush of the past few days left her jittery, and all ability to stave off the pain was gone. _Too exhausted to bother._ A few steps would carry her past the first of the statues. The Viddasala still frozen mid throw. It felt like a long way. _Had sex in front of a statue, in front of a former Qunari, in front of the Viddasala._ She’d eventually find that creepy, but for now she was too tired to care. _Mark that down on the list of things to never tell Varric._ She swallowed again. _Or Bull._ Cole would probably find out. He found all her secrets out, eventually.

Sparing a glance over her shoulder, Eirwen found the great arch at the top of the hill. It no longer glowed. The flat plane had faded to a clear blue and become no more than glass. She sighed, heavily. _He’s gone. Again._ Nothing left to do except return home to finish the problems at hand. _One at a time,_ Eirwen thought as she turned back toward the stairs. _We’ll tackle them one at a time._

To the East, the sun hung low on the horizon steadily climbing above the mountains and higher into the sky.

A new day had come.

Eirwen found herself smiling. “Let’s make something of it.”

 

***

 

Solas waited in the woods, just out of sight until Eirwen passed through the second eluvian. Leaving her to struggle and limp her way back to their friends was not ideal, but it was necessary. She needed to believe he had abandoned her. Or, at least, that he was callous enough to force her to face the long walk back alone. So, he watched her from a distance. One hand clenched around the necklace he’d claimed after casting a small spell to return their clothes. It seemed too cruel to force her to find them alone and dress after losing her dominant hand. At the same time, he removed the sleeve of her Keeper armor. On the off chance she’d prefer to keep what transpired between them secret.

They were both private individuals when it came to their personal lives, and any signs of continued involvement would put her in a more awkward position than she was previously. No reason to announce they had slept together to anyone, much less the entirety of Fereldan and Orlais. As it had not been his intention to even initiate physical closeness nor fall prey to his own desires, taking care to ensure there were no lasting signs was the least he could do.

 _Ar lath ma, vhenan._ There were no words spoken in any language he knew which could express how much. Yet, there was also no action he could afford to take. He could only turn his back and walk away. Be seemingly cruel, force himself to appear callous and uncaring, abandon her time and again. Ask she hate him. Pretend he had already let her go.

He closed his eyes and turned back toward the eluvian.

In his hand, the necklace’s small, blue crystal pulsed with faint traces of her energy. It shivered through his gauntlet and down to his skin, reminding him of kisses sweet and rough. Her mouth on his neck, her teeth teasing his ear, the pull of her grin against his cheek, lips whispering, _“ar lath ma”_. Warm breath, warm tongue, and warm hands pulling him down into a tender embrace. He knew it was wrong to take it, a desperate act done in a moment of weakness. At least, that was what he kept telling himself.

_Is it so wrong to want a keepsake? To carry some part of her with me?_

Yes. He studied the piece in his hand. As she had not given him her permission, it did constitute stealing. He could not say he regretted it. He had left her a gift of his own in exchange. He simply… needed her more than he dared admit.

Leaning against a tree, Solas slumped.

The evening before had been the first time he’d laughed in ages. She had a way of making him smile, a marvelous talent given how he forced himself to maintain composure. Two years of preparation, more than two weeks of extensive practice and planning, and she brought it all to pieces with a few flippant smiles. He told himself that he would not touch her. Yet, he touched her. He told himself he would not give in to his own desires. Yet, again, he did. She was temptation. Stimulation for his mind, body, and emotions, not overwhelming but surprising. She came not in sound or fury, but in the cunning undertow. How easily a single hand could reach up from the depths to drag him under. How easily he went. Whether hers was darkness or light, he found himself all to content to remain wrapped in those warm arms. Smiling with her goofy smiles. Listening to her excellent if, sometimes, misguided points.

He knew he should stay away from her entirely, but knew also that would only prove impossible. He would seek her out, time and again. If only in dreams, and he hoped the Fade itself would be enough. With the phantoms of memory filling the void, easing the ache as he desired to hold her in his arms again.

Slowly, he lifted the necklace and slipped it over his head. Two fingers slid the crystal beneath his chest plate and collar, so a piece of her magical essence might lie just above his heart.

It was not enough, he knew. It was not the same. Yet, it might keep him from foolishly rushing after her. Allow him to focus on the task at hand. To keep his course until the end. For now, he would carry this piece with him as a reminder.

Solas breathed deep and began his long, slow walk toward the eluvian.

She would not love him when this was over.

He, however, would remember her.

Always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there you go. I'd write more but I worked on this forever and I just want to give up on it. I hope you enjoyed.

**Author's Note:**

> I used some of the dialogue from Trespasser, some of it is slightly modified, and the rest of it is mine. This was also supposed to be way shorter than it ended up being. Blame Solas. Blame him for everything.


End file.
